You Can't Imagine
by if.i.dared.you
Summary: Peter Kowalski's torment from Gary is over - on the outside.
1. Epiphany in the Rain

Peter Kowalski sits with his hands shoved into his overcoat pockets, staring out at the cloudy skies just as they open up and start to cry freshwater tears.

The coffee he ordered didn't serve to warm him up. Nothing can touch the awful cold, gnawing and worrying at his fingers. He's sure that the cold rain will soon turn to snow anyway. So instead of moving inside, like the rest of the cafe's customers, he rolls his head back and feels the rain mingle with his own tears, sliding down his cheeks and making him shiver.

_What have I done?_

He helped Jimmy Hopkins rid the only happiness from his life.

He helped his own demise overcome him.

He's surrendering.

_Please let this stop._

In the clouds, all he can see is Gary's face. The scar, the greyish blue eyes, the grin. And every single details serves to deal one more blow to his already breaking heart. It's like real pain now, fracturing inside his chest and threatening to tear him apart. He can't face this. Not so soon.

The fight in the clock tower was only a few days ago.

He can remember Jimmy telling him the news.

_"Hey, Petey, guess what? No more Gary! No more raging psychopath! Great news, huh? I beat him down, and now he's gone! Isn't that great?"_

Petey masochistically plays it over and over in his head, the time when he first felt the now familiar pain ripping through his ribcage. He never thought it would come to this. He didn't think that Gary could be overcome like that.

His hands hang at his sides, eyes closed. He can't do anything to stop this. What he's done is cruelly circling his mind like a hurricane.

He's got to forgive himself.

But he can't.

He's got to face himself, let his own mercy wash over him and fade away the pain. He wishes he had the strength to let go, but he can't.

He can't.

He still remembers Gary's face when they dragged him away.

_"Petey!"_

Petey tries to shield himself from this pain, this agony, but it's too late.

He's already dying.


	2. A Friend and A Promise

The cold, icy flakes of the first Bullworth snow whistled past the window as Jimmy watched, arm slumped over the back of his chair, bored in English class. He'd finished his word scramble with minutes to spare, and had checked it twice. He was, for once, a model student as he stared mindlessly out into the tempest building outside.

He could see students, heads bent and mittened hands shoved in pockets, leaning into the wind as they tried to get to wherever they were going. Gord Vendrome desperately tried to shield his Aquaberry sweater and slacks whilst making a break for Harrington House. It was not a pretty sight. For once, his hair normally groomed to perfection was mussed and unstable, and the crisp white shirt underneath his precious sweater was rumpled. He almost looked like a normal kid.

But as Jimmy scanned the barren schoolyard outside the window for a friendly face, he glimpsed a small, struggling figure fighting through the winds with all his might.

_Petey._

The bell rang just as Jimmy jumped out of his seat and crashed through the desks to the door. He could tell by the look on Petey's face that he was in trouble.

He'd only seen that look once before; when he'd told Pete Gary was gone for good. As much as Petey thought he was subtle, he wasn't too good at hiding his emotions. Jimmy had regretted telling him the moment it sunk in.

He half-ran, half-fell down the steps, almost flattening Petey in the tumultuous winds. An unexpected gust caught them unprotected and they both went staggering into the stone fencing, Jimmy thrusting his arms out just in time to save Petey from a nasty bump.

Petey was crying, tears streaming down his face, and his brown eyes rimmed red. His lips trembled from being in the cold

too long and Jimmy thought he even saw tinges of blue to them. One thing was for sure - Petey was in trouble. This was serious. Jimmy had to do something about it.

As he hoisted Petey up and out of his arms, he started wailing again. It was awful, like the sound an animal would make when it was dying or in pain. Petey was shaking all over now, from cold and from crying.

Jimmy stood up and put his arm around his shoulders, guiding him back to the Boys' Dorm and warming him up. Petey stopped shaking as soon as Jimmy embraced him, and leant against his arm for support as they staggered across the stone pavement together.

* * *

_Geniuses don't need medication._

_Geniuses don't need medication._

_Geniuses don't need medication._

_I'm being caged like an animal. Geniuses aren't animals. These prison guards are animals!_

_This is a zoo. I'm being caught and held like a prisoner by stupid animals!!_

Gary sat on the floor of his cold cell, ADD-thoughts in full swing as he occasionally kicked the ceramic toilet bowl to punctuate his unheard points.

He's crazy.

He doesn't care who gets in the way. He's busting out of this place. He doesn't care who gets hurt. He's getting out of here. And he doesn't care who he uses. He's going back to Bullworth.

To wage war on the one that ushered his demise.


	3. Blood and China

AN: Okay, so the story thus far - Gary's just gotten expelled and is presently waiting out his time in Happy Volts. Petey and Jimmy are back at Bullworth and everything's returning to normal; or so Jimmy thought. Petey is depressed, borderline suicidal, and it's all because of Gary's absence. Meanwhile, Gary hatches an evil scheme (wow, what a surprise!) to break back into Bullworth and start the riots all over again.

Whew!

By the way, I just thought I should clear that up because in every chapter now there are going to be two points of view - the chapter will be split in half seperated by asterisks.

;p Happy reading! R+R people! Anyone who does will receive a free cookie! ;p

Gary wakes with a start.

His eyes snap open, instantly alert and awake. He knows that today is the day he will get out of this godforsaken pit that they call a mental institution and go and find _him. _

He gets up and springs, catlike, over to the shattered toilet bowl. He picks up a piece, weighing it in his hands. It's about the size of a soccer ball, with sharp, jagged edges and a lethal point. It shattered well, he thinks.

He takes position behind the jamb of the locked door, weapon positioned optimally in order to catch the wardkeeper by surprise. He's done this before. It comes easily to him, the swing of the ceramic piece, the sickening clang of ceramic against bone, the shatter on impact of both surfaces. He lets the pieces fall from his hands and onto the floor, blood streaming down his hands as he lets go of the dead weight of the orderly. A woman.

He probably didn't need to use that much force; she's slight and the blow completely fractured the back half of her skull. He can see fragments of what would seem to be her brain and knows he doesn't have to worry about her regaining consciousness.

Ever.

He watches as her blood gushes from the back of her head, perplexed by the stark contrast between the dark crimson and the grimy white tile.

An orderly's voice echoes from behind the door, a male voice. He must have heard.

Shit.

Gary hurriedly grabs another ceramic piece from the toilet bowl, bigger this time and with more serrated edges. He uses the door as a kickboard to gain explosive speed as he brings the weapon smoothly in an arc around to connect solidly with the side of the male orderly's face. Another bone-on-china clang.

He's no longer a concern for Gary.

Nothing is.

It's the sweetness of the hunt that makes it attractive to me, he thinks as he fights his way through the institution. The feeling you get when the prize's lifeblood is dripping onto your hands and you can hear their strangled cries for help. When you can feel the last surges of electricity flickering and dying in their nerves and synapses. When you know that you're the last person to see them alive.

He loves the hunt. He depends on it. The snap of a vertabrae, the crack of a skull, the gurgling cough when someone's drowning in their own blood, he loves it all. He sucks in every sensation, savouring the feel of warm scarlet on his hands and the sounds of chaos and death.

People say Gary's crazy.

But he just likes hurting people in whatever way he can.

* * *

"Wait, you're saying we've got to get the homicidal psychopath who tried to kill us _out _of Happy Volts?" splutters Jimmy, arms clenched into fists at his sides and legs spread into a fighting stance.

"Yes, Jimmy." says Petey quietly, staring at his thighs with his hands folded in his lap.

"You know I'd do anything to make you happy, Pete, but this..."

"Jimmy. We've got to get him out of there."


End file.
